


The Gift of Gloves

by inkyandness



Category: Hot Guy P.I. (Webcomic)
Genre: Autistic Schmidt, Fluff, Gift Giving, neurodivergent schmidt, over-analyzing over bubble tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkyandness/pseuds/inkyandness
Summary: Schmidt wears gloves, pretty much all of the time. Why?(Have you ever thought about the fact that there are things that people do, for better or worse, that stick with you for a long time, but they probably don't even remember they did something like that? Because I am.)
Relationships: Schmidt/Nando
Comments: 3
Kudos: 62





	The Gift of Gloves

Nando wasn’t the type to consider himself “fashionable.”

Now, he wasn’t like other dads, with their socks and sandals and “funny” graphic tees, and he did have his own style — you don’t exactly get a watercolor-esque tattoo of a tiger on a large part of your upper-body without having style — it’s just that he didn’t think about how he dressed a lot of the time, because he didn’t have to. A hoodie, a t-shirt, maybe a nice shirt on the occasions where he wanted to dress-up, but that was basically it.

Sometimes Nadia made fun of him for it, saying that he looked like some of the dumb skateboarders some of her friends hung out with, and although he didn’t resent the comparison, he did have to remind her that she wore nothing but K-Pop shirts and mismatched socks, so maybe she needed to stay in her lane every now and again. It was all in good fun, really.

But, bottomline: Nando probably thought more about that rat he saw sitting on a subway car seat than he did about what he was wearing day to day.

Schmidt had a different perspective on the whole thing. He _did_ used to be an Instagram personality, after all. He kind of _had_ to. You could have the best cameras and lighting in the world, all the right captions and tags, all the filters you’d need to touch-up here and there, but without anything worth taking a picture of, then what was the point?

He’d always had a good eye for a certain kind of style, anyhow. Something that gave the implication of something mysterious and intriguing in a very benign, formal kind of way. It was simultaneously intimidating and non-threatening all at once. It implied a certain level of sternness that Schmidt didn’t really have in real life, once you knew him. And of course, the earrings and the gloves added an extra kind of edge to it that kept him on this teetering line of “your intimidating college history teacher” and “manager for a rising punk band.”

It was, how you say, a look.

Of course, Schmidt didn’t know exactly the right words to describe this kind of look, but Schmidt liked the impression it gave off, so how could he not dress in such a way?

Though, not everything he wore was necessarily there “all for the aesthetic.”

He was lucky that most people saw the things that he wore in every picture more so as iconography than anything rather than the idea he had a specific reason for wearing those things. More so because he didn’t really have an answer for them when he asked.

———

“Why do you wear those gloves all the time?” Nadia asked.

It was otherwise a normal summer day. Nando and Schmidt were having a hard time cracking a case some teen boys had asked them about, and to avoid the awkward truth of not being able to solve a mystery posited by some kids over a decade their juniors, they decided to break for lunch, and considering Nadia was in the area, doing nothing in particular, she had decided to join them.

Apparently Nadia had recently found a really good bubble tea shop, and was interested in showing them. So, there they were, sitting in a booth, drinking some bubble tea.

Which, wasn’t exactly a lunch, but hey. It’s not exactly like you turn down bubble tea.

It was relatively quiet, Nadia was scrolling through her phone, and Nando was just kind of watching the diner environment float idly by.

“Hey, Mr. Schmidt, can I ask you a question?”

That surprised Schmidt, mostly because it was still strange to be regarded as an adult.

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“Why do you wear those gloves all the time?”

Now, this was a question with a very easy answer. If Schmidt was so inclined, he could’ve just said, “I like them,” and that would be that. But it was like weighing on whether to say “I’m fine” when being asked “how are you?” If you had to think about it, you weren’t fine. If he couldn’t just say he liked them from the outset, did he ever really like them at all?

It was an utterly boring, pointless question, but it weighed on Schmidt heavily.

He liked the pressure on his hands. It wasn’t a heavy or intense pressure, like a weighted blanket, but it’d be noticeable to him if it wasn’t there. In fact, he _knew_ it’d be noticeable, it’s not like he wore the exact same set of gloves every day. He’d gotten used to having the slight implication of weight there, and the fabric’s texture. It would be all the more irritable if he had to get used to not having it there than just leaving it as it was.

And then there was everything else. Although his fingertips were exposed, the rest of his hands were covered. It made textures so much easier to deal with if he only had to experience slight pressure than objects in their entirety. Bad textures felt slightly less bad that way, even if the feeling still wasn’t very appreciated.

But that was also just a lot to explain, in a very short amount of time, and it was also overall unnecessary. How much did Nadia even care about all this? She probably just noticed something benign and decided to ask about it on impulse. It wasn’t like little kids had the best impulse control, but it’s not like Nadia was that little anyhow. But, it wasn’t nosy enough to warrant a “that’s rude” or “none of your business” to dismiss the question, and that in of itself seemed like a rude thing to say, especially considering Schmidt had asked Nando far more personal questions before, which in of itself would look a bit tetch.

So, maybe two or three seconds passed after Nadia had asked the question, and now Nando seemed to be picking up on something. Did he look afraid? It could’ve just been a look of surprise, but it wasn’t outright distress that would warrant anything especially drastic from Nando to save him from this conversational prison of his own making.

However, Nando responded with something rather benign. “I think they look nice.”

“You would.” Nadia smirked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you think I’m going to let you sit here and _LIE_ to Mr. Schmidt about your emo phase then-“

“No wait, I surrender-“

And just like that, Nando and Nadia had moved on. It was like Nando knew there was something about the question that put him off, and he swooped in accordingly. He wasn’t excluded from the current conversation by any means, either. Schmidt could’ve joined in on the light ribbing of Nando’s apparent MCR phase along with Nadia, but there was something nice about being able to watch what was happening unfold in front of him. They just seemed so happy together.

…

Schmidt tugged on one of his gloves as a means of subtle fidgeting, if only to distract himself from the current conclusion that was knocking on his doorstep.

He was going soft.

———

“What’s with the box?”

It was Monday. The case they solved for that mob of teenage boys might not have paid well enough for them to really take the weekend off. But hey, why not? Can’t exactly do client work without any clients, after all.

Nando had returned to work to find Schmidt already there, like usual (if it wasn’t for the fact that Schmidt had referenced having a roommate once or twice before, Nando would’ve been certain that Schmidt lived in his office), probably trying to figure out how to win a game of spider solitaire. He shrugged in response to Nando’s question, and seemed to be pointedly ignoring his eyes. As in, it’s not like Nando noticed whether or not Schmidt maintained eye contact before, but now that there was a reason for him to not make eye contact, he seemed to be committing to it.

Nando shrugged. It was just a blue box with a ribbon tied to it. Nothing especially fancy, maybe about as big as your typical dictionary. He pulled the ribbon loose and removed the lid, and what he found inside was…rather confusing to him, if he was going to be honest.

A pair of fingerless gloves.

…He couldn’t figure out for the life of him why Schmidt had thought this might be a good gift for him. Maybe they talked about something like this or something? He couldn’t seem to remember anything like that in recent memory, but he supposed the gesture was appreciated. I mean, he would’ve loved something like that when he was going through his “phases.”

Nando looked up from the box and saw that Schmidt seemed to be watching him rather hesitantly from a distance, though he was certain if he made it known that he knew, he’d look away.

There seemed to be a lot behind this, even if Nando couldn’t say what it was, or even why, and there was something rather kind about that, no matter how off the mark it might’ve been.

Nando put on the gloves, and there was something…to the way that he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Schmidt’s gaze shift downwards as he hid his mouth with a gloved hand, a minuscule gesture as he returned to his labor, seemingly more satisfied than what Nando saw before. Quietly happy. 

Nando knew he’d probably have to take them off before his daughter saw, thus face the risk of scorn from her, but he could deal with that when he’d have to.

After all, that was later, and this was now.

**Author's Note:**

> Me: *Has never wondered why Schmidt wears gloves, barely even notices it, just accepted from the outset that he was probably living out his emo phase in his late 20s like the rest of us.*  
> Karina: https://dilfosaur.tumblr.com/post/620462229210513408  
> Me:  
> Me: But why though…
> 
> My only theories are that it’s like a sensory thing (for example, I wore a hat everyday for almost 3 years because not wearing it after only a couple of hours with it felt Bad, so I had to Commit) or his hands are just really messed up. Regardless of reasons; it’s cool as hell.
> 
> Juliastartoons.tumblr.com  
> Kofi: https://ko-fi.com/juliastartoons  
> (I'm still doing commissions for BLM charity funds, if that's relevant to anyone!)


End file.
